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bonnefoisTitle: taking out the daisies
Day/Theme: September 01 / and the hearts of all mankind can be embittered
Series: HanaKimi
Character/Pairing: Akiha/Umeda
Rating: PG
It could not be said that Umeda quit believing in love, for he never was a romantic to begin with.
He lived with attractions and lust, but didn’t seek out companionship unless the situation called for it. Humanity was full of fools and he didn’t plan to be one of them.
To Umeda, Love is either one extreme of the scales or another. Insipid and girlish, something straight from the pulp romance novels – Or breaking, tearing at his insides as if he’d swallowed barbed wire. (His body slowly accustomed, eventually he got used to the feeling, and took it stolidly)
Except for unacknowledged third option, sappier than any love song or romantic comedy, being wined and dined near daily, being told every night that the sun rose and set in his eyes. (And then throwing a pillow at the idiot and telling him to go to bed and shut up) finding handpicked flowers and home cooked meals waiting when he gets home.
He can’t complain about Akiha’s cooking, except that it’d be nice if he didn’t set the kitchen on fire for once.
Everytime he throws away the flowers once they’ve passed their prime, another set quickly takes their place, sometimes in new vases but always coming into the house with a steady flow, unbroken, routine.
Umeda always makes sure Akiha is away on business before he bends down, and smells the flowers, also checking to see if they need new water or trimming.
If not, surely there’d be pictorial evidence plastered all over Akiha’s side of the room.
Day/Theme: September 01 / and the hearts of all mankind can be embittered
Series: HanaKimi
Character/Pairing: Akiha/Umeda
Rating: PG
It could not be said that Umeda quit believing in love, for he never was a romantic to begin with.
He lived with attractions and lust, but didn’t seek out companionship unless the situation called for it. Humanity was full of fools and he didn’t plan to be one of them.
To Umeda, Love is either one extreme of the scales or another. Insipid and girlish, something straight from the pulp romance novels – Or breaking, tearing at his insides as if he’d swallowed barbed wire. (His body slowly accustomed, eventually he got used to the feeling, and took it stolidly)
Except for unacknowledged third option, sappier than any love song or romantic comedy, being wined and dined near daily, being told every night that the sun rose and set in his eyes. (And then throwing a pillow at the idiot and telling him to go to bed and shut up) finding handpicked flowers and home cooked meals waiting when he gets home.
He can’t complain about Akiha’s cooking, except that it’d be nice if he didn’t set the kitchen on fire for once.
Everytime he throws away the flowers once they’ve passed their prime, another set quickly takes their place, sometimes in new vases but always coming into the house with a steady flow, unbroken, routine.
Umeda always makes sure Akiha is away on business before he bends down, and smells the flowers, also checking to see if they need new water or trimming.
If not, surely there’d be pictorial evidence plastered all over Akiha’s side of the room.
